The Best Birthday of All
by Green Shado
Summary: Anton Shudder has always spent his birthday on his own - until the Dead Men find out and decide to throw their friend a little brunch-party. Especially Larrikin seems to be rather excited. eventual [Shudderkin] Fluff


**ooOoOoo**

It was this time of the year again. Anton Shudder allowed himself a faint almost nostalgic smile as he got dressed in front of the long narrow closet mirror. Tomorrow was his birthday and ever since he had been a child it was somehow special to him. He remembered how his father would bake him a small cake, while his mother would bustle around the house humming, trying to find the remnant of a wax candle. Anton had never much cared for presents or cake but his parents had insisted that he be the centre of attention on his birthday. To him the greatest present and joy was the entire family coming together, – well, they _did_ focus on him but that was not why he enjoyed it so much – talking and playing games all day long. It was special to him because for a single day his parents allowed themselves to forget about the horrors the world had to offer and smiled. It was not that they didn't smile the rest of the year but on Anton's birthday it was special.

Now, long after his parents had died, he still celebrated his birthday on his own. He would spend it in the lobby of his hotel for the most part, with a good book and some tea, his only companion the comfortable silence of an old building. Anton liked it this way; he didn't feel the desire to go out with friends and get drunk.

Anton slipped into his suit vest and tied his shoelaces. It was time to remind his customers of the special policy concerning the following day. Although about everyone who frequented his hotel was aware of the unwritten rule, none of them knew of the reasons behind it and Anton made sure it remained that way.

The hotelier silently descended the stairs leading to the hotel lobby and took his place behind the reception. He knew exactly how many guests were currently staying but all the same he checked the big black book on his desk. Mr Darano and Mrs Sonora.

He heard chattering and laughing trailing down the stairs and soon enough, the couple stepped into the carpeted lobby.

"Good morning", Anton greeted with the hint of a smile. "Was the stay to your liking?"

Mr Darano, a stocky man with receding hairline and a knobbly nose, placed his elbow on the desk. He produced a bulbous wallet and started piling dollar notes on the wood. At the Midnight Hotel every currency was accepted as long as it was cash. "Marvellous. Quite marvellous. We would love to stay but my dear wife tells me of tomorrow's policy."

Anton nodded, taking the money and counting it. "I am afraid, there is no way to manoeuvre around that, Sir. On one day per year I truly must focus on the repairs of the hotel."

Mrs Sonora placed a hand on her companion's arm as if to hold him back and looked up at Shudder. She was a small woman with grey hair collected into a bun. Under narrow eyebrows two green eyes twinkled with life that would not quite match her age. "We understand of course. Forgive my husband's boldness."

Anton actually smiled at her warmly. "Do not worry, Ma'am. No offence taken. "

"Why, I am glad." She turned to her husband. "Dear, why don't you get the car running? I shall be with you shortly."

Mr Darano nodded and heaved two heavy bags on his shoulders.

"Here is for your trouble, Mr Shudder", Mrs Sonora said, placing some extra money on the black accounting book. Before Anton could possibly decline or otherwise protest, the elderly woman was already continuing: "Have a good day Mr Shudder and do not work too hard tomorrow. Spend it with your family. It is your birthday after all."

Anton Shudder all but kept himself from gaping at her. Nobody except for him knew when his birthday was, not even his friends. As childish as it may seem, his birthday was something he wanted to spend with his family. Being robbed of it, he still didn't want to change anything, consequently celebrating on his own. He had told his friends, he had never known the date of his birth, which had roused shouts of indignation and disbelief.

They _did_ celebrate his birthday together, though. It had been Larrikin's idea, of course. A year after he had declared a random day as Anton's birthday and presented him with a squished bun whilst huddling in a trench in France, Larrikin had shown up at his door, the rest of the Dead Men in tow. They had thrown him a party which was not really to his liking – too much alcohol and shouting involved – but since he had his real, unspoiled birthday to retreat to, Anton didn't mind all that much.

 _And so has it been ever since. We go to a bar, the others drink and share stories._

"Mrs Sonora - "

"Don't worry. You secret is safe with me. Have a lovely day tomorrow … Anton", the elderly lady smiled gently and vanished through the double doors, humming the first notes of a song.

Try as he might, Anton could not get the words of Mrs Sonora out of his head for the remainder of the day. Questions swirled around his mind like autumn leaves on a windy day. How had she known? Why would she tell him? Who was she even? A ghost from the past?

Sighing, Anton crossed the lobby and walked up to the massive standing clock which controlled the hotel's movements and decided where it wanted it to appear next. Except for tomorrow. Anton carefully took the minute hand and began turning it, collecting the second hand on his way towards the twelve. Both hands clicked into position and the hotelier nodded, satisfied.

Having stilled the hands, the clock would malfunction and at midnight take the hotel to where it had been originally built, waiting for him to 'repair' it: on an Irish cliff far up in the north. During this time of the year it would be snowy and the winds would be harsh, roughing up the sea.

Anton still had the better part of an hour to get a nice fire starting in the massive fireplace at the far end of the lobby. He was already looking forward to take a walk along the coast, high up on the cliffs with the sea smashing itself against the rock far below. Yes, it would be a good birthday.

 **ooOoOoo**

Anton Shudder woke slowly. He had treated himself with a switched off alarm clock and when he rolled out of bed, the cold bit into his exposed skin. Quickly, he slipped into a woollen pullover and comfortable but tailored pants. Sloppy simply was not his thing.

A quick glance out of the window confirmed that the Midnight Hotel had indeed moved to the place of its origin. Just like every year before.

Still, something was different. Amiss even. Perhaps it was what Mrs Sonora had said or perhaps he was getting too old for this childish behaviour. A pang of regret and disappointment stung his chest at the thought of perhaps having outgrown his annual tradition of spending his birthday on the cliffs of Ireland.

Absent-mindedly, Anton took a collection of short stories from the shelf and headed downstairs to prepare breakfast.

Even before he entered the lobby which he had to cross to reach the kitchen, he could _hear_ something. As in people whispering. How was this possible? He had made sure there were no more guests at the hotel and yet there was folks downstairs. Had the cliffs become populated since last he had been here? He highly doubted that.

Irritated and wary, he reached the ground floor and froze. Five men and one skeleton were hurrying to and fro, preparing what seemed to be a huge buffet. There were colourful paper garlands meandering between the different plates and bowls and jugs on the table which was covered with a nice white cloth. Then Anton remembered not possessing such a huge table.

In the middle of said unknown table sat enthroned a cake. It looked very chocolatey and very much home-made. There were three levels or rather there were meant to be three but the cake had slightly collapsed on one side, making it two and three quarter levels there. The icing was terribly uneven and someone had tried to write something on it but had been too impatient to wait until the surface had cooled. So now there were several dark splotches resembling smudged letters. Without having to guess, he knew it read 'Happy Birthday, Anton'. Several candles stuck out from the icing like lighthouses bathed by the ocean.

"He's awake!" Saracen suddenly said, without having even looked in his direction.

Immediately, the rest of the Dead Men stopped in their tracks, abandoned whatever they had been doing and gathered in front of the still staring hotelier. Expectantly, they waited for Shudder to either smile or hug them or bash their heads in but nothing happened.

"What … what are you doing here?" he asked silently, looking to the floor. "How did you find me?"

None of the men had expected this reaction. It almost seemed like Anton was _ashamed_. Even though he did not blush, they could hear the embarrassment in his strained voice. Hard eyes turned on them, awaiting and demanding an explanation, an apology for ambushing him like that.

Erskine clasped his hands together. "Well, we thought … you know … you might want some cake."

"Why would I want cake?" Anton's voice was cold and testing.

"People usually like cake when it's their birthday", Skulduggery said.

"Are you trying to throw me a _party_?" Anton drew his brows together.

Dexter jumped in, gesturing wildly. "Heaven forbid! It's brunch, Anton! Brunch! No alcohol, no shouting – well, maybe a little – but this should be a party, uh, brunch, more suited for you."

"I don't do brunch."

Ghastly laughed with only a little bit nervousness making it not as natural as usual. "Call it what you like. Breakfast, for all I care. The point is, we thought you shouldn't be alone on your birthday. Took us long enough to figure out that you actually _do_ know what day you were born."

"How did you find out?"

"Well, at first we didn't even notice that you went missing on the same day every year", Skulduggery said. "But after a decade or two we could see a pattern. We thought it was because you were mourning someone or had turned into a werewolf with weird transformation habits but then last year we convinced Fletcher to drop by for the fraction of a second to check on you - "

" _What?!_ "

"We were worried", Saracen helped out quickly, dreading their skeletal friend would ruin it with his spectacular lack of tact. "Really, but then Fletcher told us about … well, your birthday."

"How did he know it was me celebrating my birthday? I never do anything except for reading and taking long walks on the cliffs."

Larrikin turned bright red. "Uh …"

Anton drew his brows together and a steep vertical crease dug into his forehead. He focused his attention on the blushing man. "Larrikin? Don't make me hurt you", he growled.

The ginger laughed nervously, pulling at a lose thread dangling from the rim of his shirt. "Ah, you will hurt me all the same, I fear. We almost had to physically hurt Fletcher to spill the beans, to be honest. Apparently, he saw you standing next to the couch table with your back to him, a small bun in front of you and - "

"Enough. Who else knows?"

Skulduggery waved his gloved hand. His skull had a faint orange glow from the fire they had kept going in the fireplace and he had even removed his hat and suit jacket. "Nobody. We went as far as having this single memory erased from Fletcher's mind. He would have told Val and then everyone would have known. Drastic measures, I grant but we understood how important this was for you."

Anton said nothing. He stared down at the book in his hand which felt heavy and bulky. Adjusting his grip, he realised he had been digging his fingers into the cover so hard, his knuckles had turned white.

The silence stretched. Nobody said a word.

"We can leave again if you, you know …" Ghastly finally started with an excessively vague gesture, beginning to think that this had indeed not been as brilliant an idea as they had believed. Sure, they had expected growling and a fight, shouting even but not this eerie silence with Anton staring at the ground next to them with a hard expression. Clearly avoiding eye contact.

"Whose idea was this? All of you?"

Shuffling of feet. It was Larrikin who answered. "Actually, it was my idea. I convinced the others. They were very sceptical since you kept it a secret all those years so we knew it was a very special day for you. But when Fletcher returned from his short visit and we almost had to beat the information out of him, he said … well, he said you looked sad and I don't want that. Anton, I want you to be happy when you make a grumpy face. Especially on your birthday."

Anton felt a sudden sting in his heart and a peculiar pull just below his solar plexus. It stretched his organs and squished them together again. Then it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

 _Oh,_ _Larrikin, don't talk like that_ , Shudder thought. _I can't be that important to you …_ _Even though you are to me._

"I see. So you sent the elderly couple to check if I would close the hotel for today again", the hotelier stated roughly. He still was not entirely sure how he felt about this intrusion. Anger? Frustration? Shame? Happiness? Sadness? Joy?

Erskine frowned. "What couple?"

"Nevermind." Anton rounded his friends and the richly laid table without paying either any heed and put his book on the mantle. When he turned back around, a smile threatened to ruin his grumpy brooding expression: his friends were still standing there, staring at him with big eyes, unsure of what to do next. It was rare to see the famous Dead Men insecure and lost at words. Larrikin wore an unnaturally serious expression.

Saracen was the first to speak. "So … would you like a slice of cake then?" He smiled his most radiant smile while he continued. "Me and Ghastly baked it while Larrikin and Erskine did the icing, although _someone_ ", he pointedly looked at the ginger, "couldn't wait for the chocolate to dry before applying the writing."

"Got carried away with excitement because we were doing this for Anton", Larrikin admitted and this time the right corner of Shudder's mouth twitched. But still he engulfed himself in silence.

Dexter smiled shyly but with obvious pride showing. "I picked out the decorations."

"Aye, you picked them out of stores without paying", Skulduggery remarked dryly.

"I do have to practise."

Anton looked from his friends who were talking over each other to present what kind of food they had organised for his birthday, to the colourful decoration. The _stolen_ decoration, he clarified. That treacherous right corner of his mouth twitched again. Anton felt warm and not unpleasantly so, it was a nice kind of warm and he was certain it had nothing to do with the fire happily spitting sparks behind him.

With this warmth spreading in his chest he watched Erskine box a smirking Ghastly on the arm with a laugh for some idiocy he had said. Dexter was mostly eyeing the food while Saracen kept a close eye on him. Skulduggery had his arms crossed before the bony chest and was overlooking everything like a dutiful mother hen.

"So, Anton", Larrikin started, fidgeting with a spoon he had picked up from the table. "Can we stay?"

Silence again. Anxious silence. Finally, a shadow of a smile crossed Anton's face. "I'd like that", he said to everyone's surprise, perhaps even a little to his own.

 **ooOoOoo**

The slightly mashed cake with the smudged writing turned out to be quite wonderful, as did the rest of the food. Even though Skulduggery claimed to have made it himself, the Dead Men suspected him of having it bought. Nobody could imagine the skeleton in a kitchen apron, flower covering his expensive suit sleeves, humming a song while whisking eggs in a bowl.

"You boiled the eggs", Erskine laughed while munching on a waffle. "I'll give you that much but there is no way, you made either these waffles or the quiche!"

Skulduggery tilted his head to the side. "I did, though", he said, piqued.

They were lounging comfortably on the couches, plates and cups strewn about the small tables and even the floor. A small radio Saracen had produced from who knew where provided a pleasant background, playing a varied mixture of songs from the last century. Sometimes they would join a refrain or boo at the host's choice of music.

Laughter was the ruling sound in the lobby of the Midnight Hotel this morning, however. Jokes and stories kept the men giggling and snorting.

At first, Anton had sat a bit stiffly on the couch but after he had realised that his friends were staying true to their promise not to turn this into an ordinary party with shouting and hollering, he had relaxed considerably. Currently, he was slouching in the corner of the sofa, a smile on his face as he watched Dexter's impression of a particularly nasty Sanctuary official.

The hotelier glanced to his left where Larrikin had taken his shoes off and had one leg curled up under him. The ginger was shaking with laughter and Anton caught the gleeful sparkle in his eyes he liked to see so much.

"Anton?" Someone poked his arm. "Saracen calls Base Daydream. Come in! Anton!"

"Hm?"

Saracen waved his hand before his face and grinned. "Stop making moon eyes at Larrikin. I asked whether you wanted to take a walk."

"I wasn't … I mean, there is no … Yes, fresh air sounds good. I'll go get a – a jacket and … uh boots", Anton stuttered and stood up quickly, heading for the stairs stiffly. He could feel his cheeks burn and the eyes of his comrades on his back. Getting clothes had been a lousy excuse to flee the stares of his friends because they knew as well as he did, that all of his clothes had been tailored by Ghastly and thus were not only armoured but also cold and heat resistant. But he needed space.

When Shudder returned a few minutes later, he had changed into tighter trousers in consideration of his boots and a long-sleeved black shirt. Pro forma. His hair was gathered in a high-sitting ponytail.

"Excellent!" Skulduggery said and put on his hat. He took two steps out of the Midnight Hotel and the wind claimed the hat as its own. Cursing, Skulduggery had to both manipulate the air _and_ fly in order to retrieve it, or rather wrench it free from the greedy grasp of the wind.

Laughing, the others watched on.

Snow was covering most parts of the wide dark green landscape which stretched to the horizon on their left. It looked like a huge patchwork rug made from only green and white wool. Scattered across the land grew bushes or other sturdy plants which withstood both the temperatures and wind. Clouds painted odd white shapes into the sky and let their light grey mirrored shadows dance across the plain. There was no house, no fence or any other sign of human settlement. They were completely alone.

Down below to their right they could hear the loud roar of the sea smashing itself against the cliffs, licking up as though it wanted to climb the jagged rocks. When the men turned their gaze out on the ocean, they could see until the fine blue line that was where the sky touched the water.

"Beautiful", Erskine breathed and nodded appreciatively as he took in his surroundings. "A bit windy but otherwise quite lovely." A snowball hit him square in the chest. He looked down, then glared at the culprit.

Larrikin grinned like a Cheshire cat and walked further away, inspecting nature. "Careful, Erskine, the snow does weird things up here."

"Oh yeah?" Ravel smirked devilishly and started waving his hands. For the others it was clear, what the Elemental was doing, but since it happened right above Larrikin's head, he was quite oblivious to what was going on. Ravel flicked his wrist and isolated more and more water molecules out of the air and collected them into a sphere. In a matter of seconds, he had formed a ball of considerate size and had the molecules freeze, creating a massive snowball. Making sure there were no chumps of ice inside the ball he had it suspended right above the ginger.

"Larrikin!"

"What?"

Erskine grinned. "The snow does weird things up here." And let go.

"Huh?" This was all Larrikin managed to get out before the massive orb crashed down on the back of his neck and his shoulders. His knees gave out under the weight and with a surprised cry, he fell to the ground, half buried under a huge heap of snow. Puffing and blowing, he flailed in the snowdrift, it really looked like a snowdrift, digging with his hands to free himself.

Smiling, Anton shook his head and walked over to Larrikin, offering the ginger a warm hand. He pulled and the snow slowly and reluctantly let go of its prey. Helping him to his feet again, he patted the white frost out of his clothes. "Here you go."

"Thanks, Anton", Larrikin mumbled and offered him a smile and ran both his hands through his hair to let even more snow fall to the ground. "Now that we have all had a taste of the marvellous northern Irish snow, where do we walk to? Or should we even take a walk? Revenge sounds so much better."

Anton glanced at Larrikin on whose cheeks the cold air had painted two rosy splotches. The tip of his nose was red, too but his eyes sparkled mischievously. There was still snow in his ginger hair and his lips were stretched into a grin. Larrikin bent to form another snowball and threw it. Only, he had misjudged the strength of the wind and the projectile hit Skulduggery instead of Erskine.

"Uh-oh." Larrikin's eyes went wide and he started running.

Amused, Anton witnessed the ground before his hotel become a battle-field: Skulduggery slowly and carefully formed a snowball and when he hurled it back at his attacker, he pushed against the air to give it more power.

Larrikin dove out of the way, centuries of combat having engrained evasion and avoidance in his body and mind, and landed in a heap of snow. The ball sailed over his head and thudded against Ghastly's chest. Looking down, on the snow on his jacket and then at Larrikin, he drew his brows together and grinned. "Oh, Skul, you know you have awakened our old feud, right?"

"I am ready, Bespoke."

Saracen leaned to Dexter, whispering. "Don't tell me they spent their time having snowball fights."

Vex shrugged with an impish grin. "I certainly wouldn't put it beyond them." A second later, Saracen leaped back so a big ball of snow could wipe the smirk of Dexter's face. The blond staggered back and glared at his friend. Even though, he had no idea who had thrown the offending snow ball, he dove at Saracen, tackling him to the ground. "A warning would have been nice. _'Dexter, careful, a snowball'_. You betrayed me, Saracen!" He grinned as they rolled in the snow, trying to rub the other's face with icy snow.

Anton refused to steep so low as to throw a snowball until someone – he highly suspected either Larrikin or Skulduggery – pushed against the air so hard, he was taken off his feet and smacked into a massive snowdrift. Eyes narrowed, Anton crawled out of the bank, lips a thin line, drawn into an eerie smile. "Who was that?"

 **ooOoOoo**

"I could do this every day", Saracen sighed happily and took another bite of cake.

The Dead Men were slouching comfortably on the sofas in front of the fireplace, eating and chatting. All of them had needed a bath after the mightily epic battle they had fought outside in the snow and Anton had benevolently enough directed each of them to a room of his hotel.

"This is an exception", he had said when they had whooped at the spacious rooms and sparkling clean bathrooms adjoining. "You can use the bathrooms but don't you dare mess up the beds. You are sleeping downstairs on the sofas and the floor."

"Hey, Anton, isn't it great, having a real snowball fight?" Dexter asked, smiling. "You know, just goofing around?"

Anton cocked an eyebrow. "I remember dunking you so deep in snow, Ghastly had to dig you out again."

Dexter winced. "You know what I mean."

Larrikin glanced at the hotelier. He was sitting cross-legged on the couch, his still damp hair gathered into a sloppy bun. Although uncharacteristically of him, it suited him. "You should comb your hair, Anton, otherwise it will probably be a nightmare tomorrow", he advised and bit his lip as if to keep himself from saying more. "I could help with that", he mumbled quickly.

Shudder put down his plate with a half-eaten mountain of waffles and stared at his friend. His cheeks were reddened and he knew, the fire didn't have anything to do with it. Weirdly enough, the others neither laughed nor hollered as they usually did when one of their own made advances – for laughs or not. They just watched expectantly and Anton suddenly realised several things:

Larrikin was seriously asking to do his hair.

Larrikin knew he didn't like too much contact and still asked for doing his hair.

Larrikin asked in order to be close to him. An ancient trick but efficient.

Larrikin was into him?!

The Dead Men knew Larrikin was being serious and not just goofing around and they were trying not to make this harder for him by ridiculing him. So he had either told them or they had found out. And they were still waiting for his answer.

"Alright." Anton cursed himself for the faint coarseness in his voice. The thought of Larrikin combing his hair, touching his hair made his stomach flip but in a pleasant way.

How long had Larrikin had a crush on him? Was it even a crush? Perhaps he was just playing around. Larrikin had never before shown particular interest in him or had favoured him over the others. There had been no other signs of the ginger being into him and he had made sure to never let the others know – involuntarily or not – of his feelings. So why now; what was he thinking?

Larrikin returned from the bathroom with a brush and motioned Anton to turn on the couch so he could sit behind him. He was blushing wildly now.

Erskine coughed. "I think it is time for presents", he announced with a grin and clapped.

"What?"

Ghastly looked offended. "You thought we would throw you a birthday party-brunch-thingy and not bring presents? Lad, you don't turn 478 every year!"

"I … I am not turning 478."

Skulduggery tilted his head to the side. "Yes, you do. I counted and I am good at counting!"

"You were dead for some time and lost and confused, I guess you didn't continue the count particularly well. I am turning 539."

"Oh."

Anton was barely able to concentrate on the conversation. Not with Larrikin behind him, running his fingers through his hair, gently pulling at knots and brushing his hair, murmuring under his breath. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's really soft." Larrikin was in awe. "I've always wondered what it felt like."

Anton blushed. He couldn't help it and when he saw the smiling faces of his friends, he blushed even deeper. "Larrikin, it's just hair, you silly", he mumbled.

"Ponytail or plait?"

"You can do hairdos?" Anton asked, surprised.

"Oi, just because I have short hair, does not mean I don't know how to do some stuff with it. So, what are you having?"

Smiling Anton, looked down at his hands. "Plait." He relaxed a little but blushed when he felt the slender fingers comb through his hair, dividing it into three strands. Was it normal to feel this silly? Larrikin was slowly but securely demolishing the walls he had built around his feelings for the ginger.

"I go first!" Dexter announced and leaned over the back of the couch to fish for his bag. With much over-the-top digging and clearly needless rummaging, he finally presented Anton with a brutishly wrapped gift. It was flat and hard and rectangular and sounded metallic. "Sorry for this. I am not very good at making things look pretty."

"Except yourself, sweetheart", Saracen drawled and joining his own present, he placed the two parcels on Anton's lap.

Shudder looked down at the gifts in his lap. "You shouldn't have … I mean, there was no need … you never brought me anything when we celebrated what you thought was my birthday."

Ghastly shrugged and added another flat round parcel to the growing pile. "We thought you would kill us. Probably. Careful, it is rather fragile."

Anton nodded and placed Ghastly's present on the couch table in order not to break it. "Very likely, yes." His face creased with a sudden worry. "You are not going to hug me, are you?"

Warm laughter met his question. Erskine shook his head and handed him a neatly wrapped oval object. "Of course not. We already got our annual hug at your … other birthday. I am sure that is sufficient", he said and smiled benevolently.

"Erskine, you are not giving me a rock, are you? This very much feels and looks like a rock to me."

Ravel grinned. "You'll see."

Larrikin quickly finished the plait, fastening it with a hair tie and playfully threw it over Anton's shoulder. "Here we go. All done. Wait, I'm going to get my present for you." He jumped off the couch, leaving a baffled Shudder behind and pulled a parcel out of his rucksack. Judging from the shape it was either a cigar box or a book.

"Lads, this really wasn't necessary ..." Anton said uncharacteristically flustered. His blush was still there on his cheeks and the others could see how happy they had made him despite his words.

Larrikin placed his gift on the heap and sat down next to Anton, cross-legged. "Careful with mine, it is sturdy but a bit old, so I am scared it might fall apart." He grinned apologetically.

"Alright, what I got for you is a bit big", Skulduggery started and dragged a huge flat rectangular present out from behind the couch, "but I guess you might like it."

Anton stared. "Is that a freaking _painting_?!"

Skulduggery cocked his head. "You will see. Go on, start unwrapping! I am really curious what the others got you because none would tell."

"We like to have our secrets, too", Dexter said and took another sip of his orange juice.

Anton was still staring at all the lovingly wrapped presents and felt hurled back in time when he would be sitting on his bed with his parents expectantly waiting for him to open his presents. Nostalgia swept over him again but he fought his way back into the here and now and took the rock-present from Erskine.

"Oh, he went for mine first!" Ravel cried excitedly.

"Don't get cocky, I just want to verify that this is a rock so I can move on to the rest."

Erskine pouted. "It's not a rock."

Anton carefully broke the wrapping and let the rock-shaped thing roll out into his palm. His mouth went 'oh' when he saw the smooth polished surface of the gigantic amber. It was at least eight centimeters in diameter and about four centimeters thick. Enclosed in the hardened peach Anton was able to make out the shape of a -

"Erskine, is this the nasty hornet that stung me right on the eyelid and I had a blue face for a week?"

"The same! Glad you remember. When you called and said you couldn't feel the left half of your face no longer and asked for someone to kill that quote unquote _devilish abomination of a winged demon_ , I actually caught it and wanted to give it to you alive but it died pretty soon after. Must have gone into shock after stinging you."

Anton shook his head and laughed. "How did you do that? This horrible incident happened five months ago. Amber takes centuries to form!"

"You forget, I am an Elemental. I do this for a living."

Saracen raised an eyebrow. "What? Making rocks?"

"It is not a rock!"

"What did you tell your customers again?" Dexter teased. "A brutal fight with a werewolf?"

Anton smirked. "Want to hear some gory details? I have worked it out pretty good, I think."

"I'd rather hear about you screaming in a high-pitched voice because of a little insect."

Larrikin smiled. " _That_ I would also like to hear."

"No chance." Anton grinned. "Well, I like it. Finally, this nightmare is over now that I am free of this beast. Thanks, Erskine." He then placed the amber on the couch table and picked up Ghastly's present.

Paper rustled and wrapping tore and Anton was holding a black vinyl record with Ghastly's handwriting on the sticker. _'_ _Dawn and Damnation'_ , it read.

"How about we listen to this while you continue unwrapping?" Skulduggery suggested and pointed to the gramophone in the corner.

"I am in awe, Ghastly! Thank you! This was the song we listened to when we officially formed the Dead Men. Haven't heard it in centuries. It's ancient. How on earth did you get that on record?"

Ghastly smiled. "Love my secrets, Anton. Happy Birthday!"

Saracen took the vinyl from Shudder and moments later the first tunes of the song filled the lobby. A woman's voice accompanied by a piano. Old and new at the same time.

"Okay, I think I am ready for whatever oddity Skul has brought me", Anton said and took a deep breath as he got up and walked to gift which was obviously a painting. "I hope it's not Meritorious, that would be awkward."

Larrikin laughed. "It is probably a portrait of himself with a stupid hat on."

"I never wear stupid hats. Style is of the essence."

Piece after piece the paper revealed first the sturdy, brown spartan frame and then the painting itself. It was a portrait, all right. A portrait of the Dead Men, sitting together, laughing and obviously having a good time. Anton gaped. "Skul, I don't know what to say", he started.

Saracen cleared his throat. "Was that in Belgium? 1902?"

Skulduggery nodded. "One of the few times our mission went so smooth nobody was hurt. One of my favourite memories from our time in the War."

"I never believe you painted that yourself", Erskine breathed. "It looks so … good. Like a painting."

"As opposed to common belief in this group, I do have other hobbies than being a remarkably awesome detective and shoot things."

Ghastly grinned but the others didn't look too convinced. Anton was still staring at the portrait showing the Dead Men in one of their best moments. He smiled. "Thanks, lad."

"It's for the lobby."

Anton grimaced. "Uh, we'll see."

Dexter pushed his present closer to Anton and it made a clanking sound when his knuckles accidentally knocked against it.

Shudder inspected the rectangular object and started to unwrap. Soon enough he was holding up a street sign which read _Roubaix_. "Roubaix? I remember having been quite grumpy because we had been huddling in this wet, dirty, muddy trench for two weeks and then Larrikin would decide it was my birthday. Mate, I nearly snapped your neck back then."

"I remember", Larrikin winced but smiled. "Totally worth it."

"Larrikin presenting you with the squished bun was what had started the whole birthday-thing, so I thought I would honour the moment and get you a lovely keep-sake."

Anton barked a laugh. "Completely insane, all of you. I love it, Dex. How did you get it?"

"Fletcher gave me a lift to France and I just took it. Picked it right off the pole and scrubbed it clean. You wouldn't believe how much dirt and dust there is on a tiny street sign."

Ghastly laughed. "You can't run around and steal people's street signs!"

"Meh, it's not an important one, anyway. The citizens don't see the value of this piece of metal so why let it rot on the roadside? It's something for the lobby as well."

"I can't cluster my beautiful lobby with all kinds of stuff. There is a reputation I have to uphold", Anton protested but Dexter had already snatched the sign from his hands and set it on the mantle.

"There. Perfect."

The woman finished the song and the record continued turning silently. None of the Dead Men noticed; they were busy laughing at Dexter's smirk and Anton's exasperated expression.

"Whatever." Anton waved it off and took the second last present in hand. "Saracen, this was yours, right?"

"Yup."

It was a small box with a cute little ribbon coming together in a neat bow. Carefully, Anton pulled at the ribbon and it came apart, falling off. He opened the box and froze. The Dead Men except for Saracen pushed forward, crowding around Anton to see what it was.

"A ring?" Erskine asked. "That's pretty straight-forward, don't you think?"

Anton gently took the ring out of the cushioned box. It was of a dull silver and sported the one or other scratch. Very faintly, they could make out the letters _L_ and _F_ , carved into the surface. It looked very worn and the initials were faded as though someone had brushed their fingers over them again and again.

"What's so special about this ring?" Skulduggery wanted to know.

"It belonged to my mother. A gift from my father. Where did you get that?" Anton's voice was coarse and his lips a thin line. "It was lost in France long ago during the War. She would wear it to battle for good luck and one day she returned from a fight and it simply wasn't there any more."

"Mate, I know things."

"Saracen", Anton said and the underlying threat hung freely in the room.

"About a month ago I got lost in the Sanctuary and ended up in the Repository but kind of the _other_ Repository? They keep all sorts of War-stuff in there, like weapons and swords they picked up during the War."

"Why have we never seen this other Repository?" Dexter asked.

"I don't think I was supposed to be there but since I was, I thought I'd look around for a bit and that is when I found the ring."

"And you took it", Ghastly stated flatly. "Lads, you can't go around stealing everything. When the Sanctuary officials notice the absence of the ring, they will be looking at the Midnight Hotel first. They might arrest Anton for theft", he laughed at the thought and the others joined him. Nobody could imagine Sanctuary officials attempting to take Anton Shudder into custody or even ask him to accompany them for an interview. "Seriously, guys." Ghastly tried to keep a straight face and failed miserably.

Saracen smirked. "Don't worry, I know a guy who is very good at forgeries. The ring is still there – or rather the replica."

"Thank you, Saracen. Really." Anton gave him a warm smile and slipped his mother's ring onto his pinkie finger, looking at it lovingly for a moment before turning to the last parcel in his lap and looked at Larrikin. The ginger winked.

"I guess that leaves yours", Anton said and cursed himself for this blatantly dumb statement. Damn Larrikin and his damn face! He was being all stupid and silly. The Dead Men smiled good-naturedly at his vocal clumsiness.

Carefully, Anton ripped at the paper and revealed the cover of a very old book. It was bound in dark brown leather and had metallic pieces protecting the corners. Scratches and even scorch marks covered the book and the yellowed pages looked like they might crumble from just glancing at them.

 _Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus._

Anton very gently opened the book and there on the first page he could make out a pale ink writing. Squinting, he tried to decipher the multiple hoops and decorative elements.

 _Happy birthday and the best of luck in your life, Anton._

 _Love, Mary S._

"No way", Dexter breathed. "A signed copy of _Frankenstein_? For your birthday?"

Anton stared at Larrikin who was smiling and blushing slightly. "I remember! When I heard Mary Shelley would be signing her novel I was really excited but then there was this mission and I was unable to attend. She died soon after."

"I know you were a fan even though you refused to admit it and that is why I went in your stead. She was quite lovely and willing to write some words for my dear friend who was such a big fan but unfortunately struck down with illness."

Anton looked down at the book again and frowned. "Wait. Is … is that _my_ copy of _Frankenstein_?"

"Ah, you know, I was broke and it was conveniently lying there for everyone to take so I, you know … borrowed it. With the intention to give it back of course. In due time. On your birthday."

Ghastly sighed. "I am surrounded by thieves."

"Please let me remind you of that one suit back in that fancy hotel in Amsterdam", Saracen pointed out and counted on his fingers. "The sunglasses? Swords? Radio? An entire train? Ghastly, you've had your fair share of stealing."

"I prefer to call it liberating. Also, I only took from the rich!"

Dexter rolled his eyes and nodded. "Aye, princess."

The tailor threw a pillow at him.

Anton ignored his friends' squabbling; he was used to them fighting and teasing. He was far more intrigued by his old copy of _Frankenstein_. "And you've kept it for all these years?"

Larrikin nodded. "Took good care of it, to be honest. As best as I could, at least. You remember that time when Mevolent's soldiers raided my hideout in the Alps?"

"How could I forget? We had to track them through the entire Saxon Switzerland just to get your dying ass back. Gave us a real scare there."

" _Frankenstein_ saved my life back then because one of the soldiers had misunderstood his orders and immediately went for the kill when it was clear they wanted me alive. He was garotting me and the book was the nearest thing I grabbed when I scrambled for a weapon. Clubbed him over the head with it."

"I am sure not every book has such an endearing back story." Anton smiled. "Why did you give it to me only now?"

Larrikin shrugged. "Since I told Mary it was for your birthday and she wrote the congrats, I had to give it to you on your birthday. And I was sure that one day I would find out when that day was."

"But we've been celebrating my birthday for the last two centuries."

"Somehow it never felt right."

Anton stroked the leather cover of the book. "Thank you, Larrikin. It means a lot."

Several hours and a lot of talking and laughter later, one after the other the Dead Men had grabbed some blankets and cushions Anton had generously piled up on the carpet between the couches and had cocooned themselves into their makeshift beds. It was more of a giant heap of bodies in between covers and pillows. Arms, feet and knees sticking out here and there.

Skulduggery had ruthlessly fought over the only couch big enough to accommodate a whole person and was now happily and demonstratively stretching out on it. He even yawned for good measure.

"Why do you get the sofa?" Erskine grumbled. "You don't even need sleep. Don't you meditate sitting up?"

"I am still your Lieutenant and as such I have the undisputed right on the couch, lowly foot folk."

Saracen boxed him on the shoulder and challenged: "You want to see what the lowly foot folk is capable of?"

Skulduggery snapped his fingers against his palm and almost lazily waved them in Saracen's direction. Shrieking and laughing, the mage was thrown backwards into Dexter who caught him and together they rolled over the floor, tangled up in blankets.

"Anyone else thinks I have not earned the sofa?"

Shaking his head, Anton got up from the other, shorter sofa and turned to leave. "Sleep well, lads. It was a great day. Thank you for everything you did. It … really means a lot."

"You are not sleeping here with us?" Larrikin asked and the disappointment was clear in his voice.

A sly smile played around Anton's lips. "I am not exchanging my soft king sized bed for a foot sticking into my back the entire night. No, no, I think I will stick to my bed."

"Oh."

When Anton turned and walked to the stairs, he could hear his friends snickering and Erskine whispered: "Man, Larrikin, don't sound so damn desperate." This evoked more snickering and laughter. "Let Ghastly cuddle you inste- ow!"

"Now, now, Erskine. We promised Larrikin not to make fun of him or embarrass him", Dexter was saying.

"No need. He does that all by himself", Ravel grumbled. "You think the mention of Anton's bed was an invitation?"

"Shut it, Erskine", Larrikin snarled.

Smiling, Anton continued his walk upstairs and only now he felt the tiredness creeping into his bones. It had been a long day of chatting and laughing and generally having a good time with his friends. After all they had done for him over the centuries he had known them, saving his life, rescuing him from torture rooms and taking blows for him without hesitation, showing up at his birthday was possibly the most courageous and best thing they had ever come up with. Anton felt warmth flow through his body and he was reminded of Mrs Sonora's words.

 _Spend it with your family._

Anton involuntarily laughed. "So I have."

Still, sleep wouldn't come. He had been too weary to change into pyjamas and simply removed his shirt and socks before crawling under the cold covers. While his body felt heavy and sluggish, his mind was spinning. He couldn't stop thinking about Larrikin and his obvious advances. Apparently he truly meant it but since when had he been feeling like this? Was it because of something he had done recently? Anton couldn't think of anything apart from his real birthday which might have triggered Larrikin to suddenly almost openly show interest.

Sighing, Anton decided to figure this out in the morning and get at least some hours of sleep before the sun would be rising. He already had reservations for two rooms for the following day in the afternoon. With his thoughts jumping from Mrs Sonora and her cryptic words to the best birthday party he had ever had and Larrikin blushing, Anton finally fell asleep.

 **ooOoOoo**

Anton woke with a jerk when something touched his shoulder. Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to suppress his instincts. Years and years of sleeping in enemy territory had blessed or cursed him with a slumber so light he would be fully awake in the fraction of a second. There was no way he could fight his natural reaction to be woken so suddenly.

Anton grabbed the wrist of the intruder, wrenched it to the side and forward and brought his foot up at the same time. It collided with the person's hip and Anton flipped them onto the bed, his other hand already firmly around the knife he kept under his pillow. His opponent offered a sharp cry of surprise as he was pinned to the bed. In just a second Anton was straddling the intruder and pressed the blade to his throat. His other hand pushed down on the the man's _exposed?_ chest. It was too dark to make out any features, so Anton had to rely on his other senses. He was very aware of two hands pushing against his chest to keep him at bay, as well as frantic panting.

"Who are you?" he snarled and increased the pressure of the knife, almost drawing blood.

"Anton", a voice croaked, the hands on his upper torso suddenly feeling very warm. "Anton! It's me! Larrikin!"

The hotelier violently flinched back as he recognized the voice and hurriedly rolled off his friend and leaned over to switch on the bedside light. "Gee, Larrikin!" Guilt washed over him when he saw the panicked expression on his friend's face. Sitting back on his heels, Anton threw the knife to the side. "Are you nuts? Have you not learned anything in centuries of sleeping next to me in ditches? I could have killed you!"

Larrikin offered a weak smile. "I guess I should have knocked."

"What's wrong?" Anton could see how bashful and timid Larrikin looked. He had sat up and was rubbing his throat – not without Anton wincing with guilt – but wouldn't meet his eye. "Hey, Larrikin. What is it?" Anton crawled over to the ginger and after a moment of hesitation he lifted his chin with his fingers, forcing him to look at him. Larrikin just stared at the hotelier with big scared eyes; the same panicked eyes that had so often pleadingly looked up at Anton during long nights out on missions. Silently begging for comfort. And Anton understood.

Gently, he took Larrikin in his arms, holding him close and allowing the ginger to nuzzle his head into the crook of his neck. "That bad, huh?" he whispered and wished he could make the nightmares disappear forever. It damn near physically hurt him to see Larrikin suffer from these hauntings and while he had his fair share of bad dreams, it was worse seeing his friend in this state. Soothingly, he rubbed circles onto his back.

"I am sorry for barging in here like that but-"

"Shhh, it's fine, don't you worry. Do you want to stay the rest of the night?"

Larrikin only nodded, his breathing having calmed and he had closed his eyes, leaning against Anton.

"Here, let's get you covered up", Anton said and grabbed the rumpled covers, pulling them up over both himself and Larrikin. "Better?"

"Much."

"Aren't you cold in just your jeans? Do you want a shirt?"

Larrikin shook his head.

There was a long silence in which Larrikin breathed in Anton's scent, trying to shake the brutish after images of his nightmare. Anton continued to rub Larrikin's back, giving him some needed time and comfort. After half an hour, Larrikin was nodding again, his head slipping from Anton's shoulder to his chest and the hotelier carefully let Larrikin slide down further until he was resting on the pillow.

"'nton?" Larrikin mumbled sleepily and Anton smiled lovingly down at the ginger who was hugging his pillow. A sudden image of him waking up every morning next to Larrikin pushed into his mind and his smile grew even more fondly. He could really imagine that: waking up with Larrikin still peacefully slumbering next to him, cuddling his pillow. He would wake him with a gentle kiss on the forehead or cheek and hear him continue snore contently.

"Shhh, I am right here. I am not going anywhere."

Larrikin smiled but didn't open his eyes. "You know it took all of my courage to ask you whether I could comb your hair?"

"I figured as much. But, do you really mean it? Are you so serious about this that I can …" Anton trailed off and made a vague gesture with his hand.

Now Larrikin did open his eyes and he even pushed up on his elbow. "Anton Shudder, I have loved you for over fifty years now and never let anyone know. Least of all you because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or rush you into anything. Plus, our friendship was worth more to me than the thin hope you might love me back."

"Fifty years?"

Larrikin blushed and nodded. When he saw Anton's expression he quickly started waving his hands. "This does in no way mean that you have to love me back or anything. I was – stupidly – hoping that you might … you know … perhaps be into … but uh I see that … please don't hate me. Can we be friends? I will just … go back to like I was before." Larrikin looked like he was on the verge of tears. In the dim light of the bedside lamp his hair seemed even more ginger and Anton really wanted to run his fingers through those locks.

"Do you really mean it?"

Larrikin nodded. "I wouldn't play with you like that. Especially not after Saracen-"

"What did the man do now?" Anton sighed wearily.

"Well, when Saracen first found out I had a crush on you he actually laughed so hard he had to sit down and continued to call me an idiot because apparently he knew you were into me for quite a while now."

"He _what_?!"

"Saracen just knows stuff; don't ask me..." Larrikin made an exasperated gesture. "Of course he told the others about me but I think he was too scared to spill what he knew about you."

"Justifiably."

"Point is, I had hope that … Saracen wasn't lying to me and that you really were … you know. But maybe that was just me being blind and now I've made a fool out of myself. I am so sorry Anton. I-I don't-"

"You haven't made a fool out of yourself, Larrikin. Look at me", Anton asked but the ginger stoically stared at his hands folded in his lap. Smiling, he traced his jawline until he could lift his chin and make a reluctant Larrikin look up at him. He wiped a tear from his cheek. "Why are you crying, silly?" He laughed coarsely and with just a last second of consideration whether it was a joke, he came to a decision. Anton had been wishing for this, waiting longingly for this and now finally, he overcame his last shroud of hesitation and leaned in, his fingers still under Larrikin's chin.

Anton gently slipped his lips on Larrikin's, his heart pounding wildly in his chest and his stomach somersaulted pleasantly. He couldn't even remember the last time he had felt this happy and in love. Closing his eyes, he let his lips brush over Larrikin's and nudged his nose into his cheek.

For several moments Larrikin was petrified and didn't dare move. Then the realisation of what was happening kicked in and lips stretching into a smile, he raised his hand to Anton's face, finally revelling in their chaste first kiss. Fingers curled in his hair and brushed against his cheek softly. Anton was the first to pull back and when he opened his eyes again, he saw the pink on Larrikin's cheeks. His heart rate apparently had no intention of slowing down any time soon and he felt a smirk pull at the corners of his mouth. A flustered, blushing, half-naked Larrikin was indeed something he would love getting used to.

"Wow", Larrikin breathed and laughed nervously. "I never thought this would actually happen. Am I dreaming and about to wake up?"

Anton captured Larrikin's mouth in another kiss and this time it was not just a brushing of lips but a real proper kiss. One hand in Larrikin's hair, the other stroking his back, he deepened the kiss but just a little. Anton had to force himself to pull back; he had been waiting for this for such a long time and didn't want to overwhelm Larrikin. "No. Definitely not." He wrapped an arm around Larrikin and laying back down, he pulled the ginger with him. Larrikin was half on top of him, admiringly smiling down at him and kissed him again.

"I feel like this is the best birthday I ever had", Anton whispered.

Larrikin only laughed his sweet adorable laugh and stole another kiss before cuddling up to Anton and closing his eyes. Before he knew it, sleep had caught up with him and the hotel was engulfed in silence again.

Down below in the lobby, wrapped in several blankets and about to snooze off, Saracen Rue smiled into his pillow. "Finally."

* * *

 **I hoped you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think! =)**


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